


Letters from Home

by pastel_didactic



Series: Letters [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Not Ashamed, M/M, Or does he
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:03:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastel_didactic/pseuds/pastel_didactic
Summary: "The journal in his hands suddenly felt as though each individual page weighed twenty pounds.Sojiro opened the journal to the first page, and began to read."





	Letters from Home

**Author's Note:**

> I promised to deliver this today, so here it is! My second work here on Ao3. This is something I'm actually quite proud of, and I'm thinking of creating a companion piece to this, perhaps from Akechi's perspective. 
> 
> Also, I kinda skirted by on some of the dates, since I don't exactly have the time to play through and record the proper dates right now. I will edit later if one of them is horribly wrong or something. 
> 
> WARNING: This fic contains really touchy topics regarding a teenager facing the idea of death and coping with the possibility of dying. There is also a portion where a teenager is canonically under the influence of a drug, and that experience is described in this story. If this does make you squeamish at all, or is perhaps something more personal to you, perhaps this fic isn't the right one for you. I'd love for you to stay and read it, tell me what you think, but your mental health is important too, and this fic does get very dark around the halfway point. 
> 
> I'd like to take this time to thank my best friend Kylie, for helping me edit this monstrosity. I cannot thank you enough for all of your patience with me and this fandom.

The date was March 20th, and the cafe was entirely empty. Not that this was new by any means, but to Sakura Sojiro the small, back-alley cafe felt more like a funeral home than a place of business. Though only a year has passed, so much had happened that a single year felt like a lifetime. A hundred years worth of life crammed into one. Sojiro put down his magazine as his singular guest for the day paid and left. With that one presence gone, the silence encroached on his ears. If he listened hard enough, Sojiro could swear he could hear his own ears ring. Ascending the stairs at the back of the cafe, he crested at the top to find an empty storage room. A storage room that once housed a rather extraordinary young man, whom Sojiro had come to love as his own son. That seemed like a lifetime ago as well, and the boy had left only yesterday. 

Akira was a good kid, and Sojiro would fight to the death anyone who dared oppose that. In the year that he’d known the raven, Akira had impacted so many lives around him that it was impossible to believe the boy was introverted by nature. He seemed to just honestly want to help people, and stand up for what was right. He kept his grades up, kept his friends close. Behind those glasses Sojiro had come to learn were fake, Akira’s steel grey eyes studied the world and tried to figure out how the world could do better. He'd taken that upon himself as his own burden. Within days of his arrival Akira had quickly fashioned himself to be a modern Atlas, holding up a world's burden of problems with not a single complaint.

Akira had left behind not a single trace of his presence. All the gifts he’d used to decorate the space were studiously packed away in the same cardboard box he’d moved in with and shipped off just as quickly as the boy had left. Akira kept a tidy space, which did say a lot about himself as a person when one considers just how many knicknacks he’d collected over the last year. But somehow, that boy managed to make a tiny attic space a comfortable, cozy environment. The whole space felt warm and soft, like sunset filtering through an open window. One felt like they could relax here, much like everyone always said they could in Akira’s presence. Now only scraps of that presence remained. Small outlines of gifts on his shelf where the dust just never stopped accumulating. Ghosts of a life. 

Plopping down on the sofa, which really was just an extra booth Sojiro had after one cushion was ripped by a rowdy kid, Sojiro took in the space. The silence stemmed from here. There was no longer a presence living in this room. Not even that damned cat. No more quiet music filtering down the stairs while Akira studied, no more soft game noises at odd hours of the evening. The kid kept a weird schedule, but always made time for his friends. Rifling through his apron pockets, Sojiro produced a small, A6 sized journal. He gave Akira this journal as a means of making his own reports to Akira’s probation officer easier, though he never did ask the boy to show them anything he’d written in the pages. Now, flipping through, Sojiro realized that for as quiet as Akira was, he certainly had much to say. The pages were brimming with entries and small doodles. A well-done sketch of Morgana about to pounce on one page, a colored-in sketch of an open panda pencil case in the margins of another. Sojiro had no idea Akira was artistic. He thought that was solely Yusuke’s domain. He stopped his flipping on a page that had nothing on it, save the date and a small sketch. Drawn on the page was a black mask, fading into a bright red as two horns curled up from the frame. The left eye of the mask was cracked and broken, and resting under the mask was a single, highly detailed red rose. The date was labeled, in uncharacteristically wobbly numbers, “11/24.” The pages following that sketch were empty or very short, but soon filled out again. Sojiro felt a sinking feeling in his gut, unable to shake the feeling that something had happened to Akira on that day. 

Thinking back to November, Sojiro remembered how difficult that month was for Akira and his friends. Akira had been arrested and managed to fake his own death, which was something Sojiro still didn’t fully understand. He remembered the coup, and how the detective chasing after them had initially plotted to kill Akira. 

However, in the later half of that month, Akira’s entire demeanor had indeed changed. He ate less, stayed out late. Sojiro would have been more worried if the boy didn’t seem entirely nonplussed at face value. Now Sojiro felt bad-- he should have noticed that Akira was going through something, and offered to help. That was all Akira ever did to everyone else. Everyone leaned on Akira, but on whom did Akira lean? Who was there for him, when this obviously personal tragedy occurred? From what Sojiro could see, Akira confided in no one regarding his feelings, not even the cat. He was stoic, neutral, and a little bit of a shit, but not once did Sojiro ever see Akira sit down with someone and go over how  _ he _ felt. Sojiro had offered him his ear, more than once, and Akira quietly declined every time. Why? Why did he shoulder all this alone, when he never expected anyone else to do so? Though this felt like an invasion of privacy, Sojiro felt like he owed it to Akira to be there for him, and for him to do that properly Sojiro had to understand how the boy felt. The journal in his hands suddenly felt as though each individual page weighed twenty pounds.

Sojiro opened the journal to the first page, and began to read. 

_ 4/20 _

_ I received this journal today. Sojiro said I should keep a record of my activities so it’s easier for the probation officer. I get that, but… How is this even my life now? I saved a woman from being raped and  _ I _ was the one who was arrested? Thinking about that day makes me angry. Thinking about how my father reacted makes me angry. I like Sojiro, and I like this cafe, but dumping me in the responsibility of a complete stranger feels a lot like irresponsible parenting. Not that he ever felt compelled to  _ be _ a father in the first place.  _

_ It still makes me angry. _

_ 4/21 _

_ What the actual fuck. _

_ So I went to school. Like normal students do.  _

_ I took the train. Like normal students do.  _

_ It started raining, so I took cover under an awning, and this girl showed up. Very conventionally pretty, but also foreign. I think she might be part American? But anyway, a teacher shows up out of nowhere and the girl accepted a ride from him. Seemed fine, I guess, until I saw the look on her face. I feel like I should have gotten into the car with her. That guy seemed like a creep right from the start, sure, but students are supposed to trust their teachers to be responsible.  _

_ Then some hot-shot blond kid comes barreling down the sidewalk after that car, cursing up a storm, wondering why I didn’t get in the car with her.  _

_   
_ _ Like I know what’s going on at this school right now? I just moved here. But he didn’t know that, so I guess it’s fine. He offers to walk the rest of the way with me and we got lost. _

_ Really lost. _

_ We ended up at some castle. Not joking. An actual castle. That’s also the school? I still don’t understand. We got arrested by the guards (in full plate armor, too) and thrown into a tiny, brick cell in the middle of gods know where. The gym teacher I saw in the car with that girl comes up to us, and he’s wearing, I kid you not, a fluffy red cape and a Speedo.  _

_   
_ _ Nothing else.  _

_ He was about to kill us, like legitimately execute us for trespassing, when I heard a voice in my head, that sounded a lot like me, and wanted to know if I was willing to do all manner of deeds to fulfil my justice.  _

_ I awoke something in me, down in that place. It felt… good. Wild, unchained, and free. I could fight back instead of being walked on, stand up straight with pride and take no shit, and I wouldn’t change that feeling for all the money and pride in the world.  _

_ God I hope my probie doesn’t read this.  _

Sojiro laughed, wondering how any of this would sound in Akira’s deep voice. He had no idea that boy was such a character. Akira always kept the world at arm’s distance, while also opening his arms to anyone he met. He hid his eyes behind fake glasses and messy bangs, and prayed for the best. The kid was a whirlwind, so much so that every quiet, yet snarky comment that ever issued from his lips either exasperated Sojiro or gave him a heart attack. Flipping a little bit ahead in his reading, because the beginnings of stories like this always start out slow, he settled on a date that ended up being before Yusuke joined their fold. Sojiro liked Yusuke, as the young boy was very knowledgeable about emotion, though he never seemed to apply that wherewithal to himself. 

_ 6/9  _ (Sojiro chuckled at a small sketch of a chibi Akira with glasses almost as big as his face held up a peace sign with a small “nice” written by his head.)

_ I met a boy today. I saw him during a school trip. It seems like such a romantic thing to say-- “I met a boy today, someone get the vapors,” but honestly I was intrigued. He seems smart, and the small debate we had was fun. A battle of wits, maybe. His name is Akechi Goro and he works for the police in his spare time-- he might prove to be an enemy, but for now, I just want to keep talking to him. He approached me afterwards and asked to keep in touch with me. I might be tap dancing on the tightrope of danger, but at least this danger is pleasant to look at as well as talk to.  _

_ He said something funny, though.  _

_ I think he can hear Morgana.  _

_ 6/10 _

_ So after some decidedly not-stalkerish stalking I found his Instagram. He has a food blog. A man after my own heart, indeed. He has pictures of himself outside of Leblanc, though I’ve never seen him there. He also appears to be an influencer. He has hundreds of thousands of followers. Rather alarming, really. Though… we met on the subway today. We talked until he came to his stop. I… might be getting cautiously attached. It’s nice to have someone to talk to that challenges you, you know? Plus, he’s cute. Always a bonus.  _

_ 6/22 _

_ It feels like a dance, sometimes. Talking to Akechi. He knows I know something, and while trying to pretend that I don’t, he asks me questions about how I feel regarding the Phantom Thieves. I respond in kind as a neutral, uninterested student, and he fakes that he thinks it’s cool I don’t care. I wish he’d drop the act, though. I… enjoy his presence. I want him to feel comfortable around me, enough to drop the facade and just be Akechi Goro. I don’t think that will ever happen, though. I feel like one day, we’ll turn around and Akechi will have a gun to my head. Is it bad part of me wants to let him? Not even just to see if he would, but because of the thrill of it. The adrenaline rush of someone you care about crossing a line of danger with you.  _

_ I want Akechi to be happy. If catching us or hurting me is how that happens, though… There has to be something I can do to help him that doesn’t involve violence.  _

_ 7/15 _

_ I found Akechi at a bread stand in the train station. He was very close to our hideout. I think he was trying to stake us out, but I also think the stand distracted him. Though, in retrospect, me showing up there was basically confirming what he was there for, even if he wasn’t paying attention at the time. So, who really won? I bought him a chocolate and banana crepe and he was absolutely delighted. Apparently, Akechi has a massive sweet tooth, and apparently, I am entirely unable to resist him.  _

_ It was while he was trying, with the most adorable concentrated expression, to get a bite of crepe, custard, chocolate, and banana at the same time that I realized I have a crush on Akechi Goro.  _

Sojiro remembered Akechi. He was a young boy who would sit at the bar, in the same spot every night in front of the magazines. He would show up normally once a week, ordering the same kind of coffee. House blend, one sugar. Until about early November, when it seemed like he’d joined Akira’s friends in whatever Phantom Thieves business they were doing. To Sojiro, Akechi always seemed very lonely. The young man never seemed to have time for anything, between work and school, plus whatever TV interviews he was having that week. Sojiro was amazed at all he’d found the time to spend with Akira that he did. Perhaps that said something about the boy; that he’d make time to see Akira instead of tend to one of his many other duties. Now that Sojiro thought about it, he hadn’t seen that boy in a very long time. 

_ 7/17 _

_ Fuck, I’m in love with Akechi Goro.  _

_ This is bad. This is very bad. Not only is he investigating us, but I’m also pretty sure he’s got access to the Metaverse somehow. Fuck-- How could I be so stupid!? I’m supposed to lead this group, not fail them miserably because some adorable detective with big, carnelian goo-goo eyes bats his stupidly long lashes at me! I need to drop this. I need to let this bleed out on its own. I don’t want to-- I’ve never felt love before this, but I’m positive what I feel for Goro is... definitely love. But I have to. For the others. For our team. It’s far too dangerous. It really is, and I can’t go around risking us like that. Not when what we’re doing is  _ working _ . We’re actually making a difference, and I can’t jeopardize that.  _

_ Who the fuck am I joking? _

This was information Sojiro didn't know how to handle. He had his own suspicions about Akira's romantic preferences, and he wasn’t surprised to find he was correct. He supported Akira in everything he set out to do, and he never wanted Akira to feel uncomfortable or unwelcome, so Sojiro never brought up the topic. He just let Akira be, and maybe he should have asked about that, given the evidence in his hands. However, parts of this story so far didn't make sense to Sojiro. Granted, half of it touched on topics he didn't fully understand anyway, with those kids wrapped up in this unbelievable, supernatural world. Wasn't there… something else that happened? Pieces of the story were missing, and watching Akira descend into this panic both confused and worried him. 

Sojiro had been told after the fact by a particular, ashamed, and quiet young man, of the plot to kill Akira. There were details, apologies, and tears shed that day and above that, all Sojiro could hear was the sound of his own heart breaking. But that was in November, with still a ways to go from here. Akira must have had quite the jump on this plot to already be aware of the plan months in advance. Maybe… This seemed like a stretch from Sojiro’s standpoint, because he’d never heard the cat speak himself, but perhaps Akechi was aware that Morgana was the one that spoke? The cat had quite a distinctive voice, if his actual voice sounded anything like his meows. How could Akechi have come to the conclusion that the voice he’d heard was any one of the kids there that day, when surely a cat’s voice sounded wildly different from a human’s of their age. The reasoning sounded… sloppy, to say the least. Unless that was intentional, which opened up another avenue of thinking Sojiro didn’t want to touch today. Or ever. 

_ 10/20 _

_ So Akechi blackmailed us today.  _

_ I knew it was coming. Can’t say it didn’t hurt though. Morgana and I talked for a long time regarding how he was lying about when he first got his powers. For all that I’m trying, for all that I want to get through to him, I don’t think it’s going to work. I won’t give up, though. I can’t give up on him. I see him in the cafe once a week now, and we hang out sometimes. He’s good at pool, but I’m better at the batting cages. We play chess on rainy days. I think he likes that. At least, it seems he does? But I can never tell. I have no idea what’s real with Goro or what’s fake. I wish he’d be honest with me. It… really hurts.  _

_ I can’t believe he was able to blackmail me, to my actual face, calm as a cucumber. It was like he didn’t care, like we were means to an end, and he didn’t care if he hurt my feelings to do this. I want to confront him about it, but now that he’s obviously shown that I can’t trust him… Despite my better judgment, I still want to help him. If everyone else on planet earth turns their backs to Akechi Goro, I won’t. I just wish I could tell him this without risking everything.  _

_ 11/10 _

_ Goro… is planning to kill me.  _

_ No lie.  _

_ No joke.  _

_ Straight up shoot me.  _

_ Futaba hacked his phone and listened in on a phone call he had with someone who appears to be his employer, telling him that they were going to ambush us, arrest me, and set up a murder/suicide. Goro is gonna come into the interrogation room with a guard, take his gun, kill the guard, kill me, then make it look like I did it. No matter how sloppy it looks in there, the police will buy it because I’ll be arrested in the act, as Joker. They have no idea what the Phantom Thieves are capable of, so they’ll take anything as an excuse to frame me. Frame us.  _

_ I don’t know what to do with this. Obviously, we’re developing a plan, but… I dunno. Something about this feels too neat. Too perfect. Goro just  _ happened _ to take that phone call where he  _ casually  _ told his superior his entire evil plan the day after Futaba handled his phone for  _ a while _ . She held it for minutes. He had to have known she was doing something. Call me crazy, everyone else is, but… I think Goro wants us to know. I think he wants us to save him. Maybe he has to go through with this to slide under this guy’s radar, so he’s telling us this way and hoping for the best? So much is riding on this heist. My whole life is riding on this heist. It’s not like in the Metaverse, when we can just use a Goho-M or use our powers to heal.  _

_ I’m… gonna try something. It might be the best chance I have, on top of the plan we’re already concocting. Or… it’ll ruin everything. I’m not sure. It’s such a fine line. But… Fuck it. If I die, I’ll die with no regrets.  _

_ 11/17 _

_ We were down in Mementos for most of today. I wanted to clear out our requests in case the heist doesn’t bode well for me. I told everyone to head to the next area, but I stopped Goro at the platform. I’d planned this with the team-- I knew they’d give us however long we needed. Makoto certainly didn’t like the idea, but I was resolute. We talked a little bit about… a lot of things. What happens after, why can’t he stay when this heist is over, etc. We talked for long enough, and emotionally enough, that Goro lifted that dumb mask off his face. Faced with his curious expressions, and his adorable pouts without that pompous beak in the way, I may have… inadvertently told Goro I had feelings for him.  _

_ I may have… more inadvertently… kissed him.  _

_ I told myself I wasn’t going to, but I also told myself I wasn’t going down with any regrets. What surprised me most was that Goro  _ came alive _ when I kissed him. He grabbed me like I was a buoy and he was drowning in the sea. I’d never kissed anyone before, and I don’t think he has either. But  _ gods _ , no one ever told me it was anything at all like that. It felt warm, and soft, and perfect. I never wanted to stop, but we needed air, and when I finally pulled back, Goro was crying. _

_ Goro is quiet when he cries. He covered his mouth with one hand and shuddered with his sobs. I tried to wipe the tears away, but he shook his head. He didn’t want me to touch him, I got that. But I also wanted to comfort him. So I told him… Some aspect of the truth. It was probably the most I had ever said in his presence. I told him that I cared for him, which is the truth. I told him I wanted him to be able to relax around me, which is also the truth. When I told him I wanted him to trust me the way I trusted him… maybe that was too much? But he stopped crying and looked at me, confused and a little wary. So I elaborated by telling him that it would make me happy if he came to lean on me, however careful or otherwise. I wanted him to know that I’m here for him, no matter what. Not out of a sense of obligation, or duty, or pity. But because I genuinely care for him.  _

_ I don’t think he expected that.  _

_ I don’t regret it.  _

_ 11/18 _

_ A 9mm bullet fired at point blank range tears into grey matter so fast, it sears the meat. Doctors say the impact happens so fast the victim never feels it, others say the brain stays alive for a few minutes after, in shock and aware. I won’t say I’m not scared. I’m only 17. But during this entire experience, I’ve lived through and done so many things… I’m not as scared as many people would think I should be. After yesterday, Goro went home with only a quiet goodbye. He seemed pensive. I’m not sure if he’s going to go through with it or not. Maybe I confessed too soon, or maybe it’s far too late to consider even trying to change this. Change any of it. We’re leaving directly after school for the Palace.  _

_ Sojiro… if you’re reading this somehow. If they’ve got my personal effects and gave them to you instead of incinerated them, give this notebook to Goro. I want him to know I was honest. I want him to know that someone did care for him, regardless of what he may or may not feel is the truth. I want him to know I love him, and I don’t want him to regret anything. It would make me sad, if he made his decision for whatever reason, for whatever plan he has at the end of all this, only to fall flat because he had to kill one foolish boy he never intended on liking anyway. I want him to do what he’s set out to do, then process his feelings. I want him to heal, and I want him to be happy. More than anything else, out of all this confusion, Spy vs. Spy, and deception. I want Akechi Goro to find peace.  _

_ And Sojiro, thank you. For everything. All of it. For taking me in, teaching me how to make coffee and curry. Teaching me about the value of family, of doing the right thing because it’s right, not because it’s fair. It was like you were teaching me how to be a man, instead of just a delinquent boy. I never had a good family experience. I feel like you’ve adopted me in spirit, in whatever backwards fashion one would call this whole probation fiasco. Thank you for letting me help Futaba, and for allowing me to become a sort of big brother to her. If this goes sideways, I’m going to miss you both so much. I would have been proud to be your son. You’re a good dad, Sojiro. Thanks. _

Sojiro had to stop there, a jagged sniffle ripping from his sinuses as he wiped at his eyes. He remembers that day, and not with fondness. Akira seemed intense all that morning, barely touching his breakfast and leaving without even a small goodbye. He was determined, stone-faced and yet also scared. Under those glasses, behind those bangs, Kurusu Akira was scared to die. To be seventeen, only seventeen, and forced to endure something like that-- such a sentiment floored Sojiro. He was taken by complete surprise. That  _ happened _ . That actually happened. Akira was prepared to  _ die _ , at seventeen years of age, at the hands of the boy he loved, for some underhanded plot that Akira didn’t even know of fully at the time. The very thought churned his stomach. Cruel, was what that situation was. Unabashedly cruel. To have a child accept the possibility that such a risk might kill him. For Sojiro to watch events unfold and Akira become increasingly accepting of the idea of dying. Yet, Akira succeeded. He survived because his friends worked together to counter the plot. The truth was hard to say, and Sojiro was not going to judge until he had reached the end of this journey. 

Deciding he needed a break, Sojiro stood and went down to the cafe. No one had come in-- he would have heard the door if they had --but still he sighed at the lack of business. Despite enjoying his secluded hideaway, Sojiro often wondered if they wouldn’t benefit from a change of venue. Not right now, though. That was a thought for later. After helping himself to a cup of coffee and two cigarettes, Sojiro stared at the journal, spine up on the table as its pages were opened to mark its place. Akira had written his last wishes, like a will and testament, in that notebook. A boy, facing death, thought of the boy he loved, and the family he wanted to call his own. 

Sojiro wished he could adopt Akira. From Sojiro’s understanding, his father never contacted him during the entire year he spent in Shibuya. From Akira’s entries, it seemed as though he respected his father, insofar as he  _ was _ Akira’s father, but there was a lack of love. Akira never spoke of any abuse, but there was definitely neglect, as Akira had been thrown out of his house for the year simply based on a false charge. Akira had never said what happened to his mother, but all he had to say about his father was nothing good. The knowledge broke his heart, that Akira trusted and loved Sojiro enough to leave him this note, and not mention anything about his own father. Did Akira really have to leave? Wouldn’t he just… come back? Couldn’t he? Perhaps, when he was feeling more emotionally aware, he would call Akira. 

He did, after all, have Akira’s cell phone number saved into his phone.

_ 11/21 _

_ Scratch all that. I’m not dead!  _

_ I’m not entirely sure WHAT happened, but what I do know was that Sae left the interrogation room, out of time. I hadn’t convinced her to take the phone because I legitimately forgot I was supposed to-- those drugs they put you on? Someone has to do something about that, cause I’m pretty sure what they gave me was two steps away from straight-up cocaine. I thought for sure I was gonna die. But then, the door opened, and Goro rushed in, still telling the officer outside to leave and make sure he was never found, or he’d shoot the man himself. I was still drowning in the shit they gave me, so when Goro lifted my head to give a good look at me, all I saw was his worried face. He saw the needles on the ground and tsked, much like Sae did. That was weird. Almost  _ exactly _ like how Sae did. Uncanny.  _

_ I dozed off for a bit but when I could focus again, Goro was asking me to help him. He slung my arm over his shoulder and together we carted my drugged ass to Sae’s car, whom he had at some point enlisted for help? I never heard the full story about that. From that point on, I only remember bits and pieces. The drug was wearing off, and all it was making me was exhausted. Time is a lie in that state-- come to find later I’d been there for two whole days. Goro situated me so I was laying down in the car, and I vaguely remember my head resting on his leg. He ran his fingers through my hair while he made a call-- he even apologized that he was going to have to sound awful for the next few minutes. He confirmed with a “Shido-san” that he’d done the deed, and spoke to him for a moment about their “grand plan.” I wonder if that wasn’t all for Futaba’s benefit, because her bug was still there, and she was  _ definitely _ still listening.  _

_ In doing that, the coroner waved off a death certificate without even seeing my body, and the news released a statement about my suicide. Our plan was literally exactly the same-- except we were plus a Goro. He and Sae spoke, but I wasn’t at all listening. I was drifting off to sleep by that point, with Goro still running his fingers through my hair. Let me tell you, that feels so good. I had no idea I needed contact like that until he did it. When I woke up, I found myself in a bed at Sojiro’s place. I was sore as hell, but Goro was there. He gave me a glass of water and some painkillers, and said nothing for the longest time. When he did, though, it was an apology. He said he’d found himself wrapped up in something, and never thought how I’d feel about it when the time came. It wasn’t until I kissed him that he realized what he was feeling, and what he was doing. He’d realized he didn’t want to hurt me at all, much less kill me. That he was done being used by a father who didn’t care about him. It was a sentiment I understood, but at the time I felt this was something the whole group needed to hear.  _

_ I told him as much, and that he shouldn’t worry about it just yet. I promised him we’d help him. I promised to do as much as I could for him. Goro said I give too much of myself to other people, which is probably true. I told him the truth-- it makes me happy to help people I care about, and I felt like my trust wasn’t something I ever wanted him to be without. He gave me an exasperated look, but I got a kiss out of it, so I’m all good with that outcome.  _

_ Though… I probably should have told someone to let the others know Goro was on our side now? The reception to him showing up at the cafe with me was… not pleasant. Ryuji almost attacked him were it not for Ann grabbing him by his hood, and if looks could kill, Haru’s glare would have put him in the ground. That was… a long and grueling talk. Honestly, it was more emotionally exhausting than the entire time I spent in prison. Futaba was at first angry about her mother, but Goro explained to her that he was told that destroying Wakaba’s shadow would only knock her out for a time, not kill her. When it  _ did _ kill her, Goro went to his father, who’d issued the attack, and yelled at him for tricking him. Shido apparently replied that Goro was an accomplice now, and if he backed out, Shido would go to the police. Futaba was more understanding after that-- hell, we all were. That was a shitty situation, to be sure. Haru will never forgive Goro for her father’s death, and Goro accepted that. But Haru also understood that Goro was manipulated to a certain extreme, and our real enemy was Shido. For now at least, Haru was willing to work with Goro. I’m glad the two of them are at least trying-- it could have turned out so much worse.  _

_ The look on Goro’s face when I told him Shido Masayoshi was responsible for having me arrested in the first place isn’t something I’m soon to forget. I’ve seen Goro angry before, but that was  _ livid _ . That was pure, unbridled rage. I hope he never has cause to look at me like that. To find out that Goro was passed around like some kind of toy, one murder after another, one politcal upheaval after the next-- the implications were staggering. If Goro were ever arrested, he’d be tried as an adult, and as a serial killer. He’d be given the death penalty, point blank. Once he’d found himself tied to Shido by what happened with Wakaba, he’d just gone along with it, biding his time until Shido amassed such political power Goro could ruin his reputation by outing himself as Shido’s illegitimate son. By joining us, and placing his trust in us, he was risking a great deal. He never said he didn’t deserve some kind of punishment for his actions-- he did say he’d have Shido arrested and then do something about his own crimes (Which, honestly, that made my blood colder than it needed to be). He also said we were not obligated to trust him. But he was going to trust us, and give us the reigns on stopping Shido.  _

_ “You’ll make a deal with me, right? You won’t say no, will you?” I think I’ll remember that forever. Goro is staying here tonight. Something about his nerves, and how he felt safer in my presence. I wasn’t about to complain. Cracked a few jokes, but the levity and chuckles I got from that more than made it worth it. We’re going to sleep soon. I wonder if I can convince him to share the bed with me. Intimacy aside, the couch isn’t that comfortable. _

_ There’s a long road ahead of us, and I’m not sure the worst is even over yet. _

_ 11/24 _

_ Our infiltration of Shido’s palace has begun. We’re going back in today now that we know how to open the treasure room door. Goro has stayed with me this entire time. I asked him about it once yesterday. He said he felt as if I’d disappear if he looked away. I’m pretty sure that kiss saved my life. Goro was so entrenched in his anger that he would have killed me no matter what I’d said to him. Words meant nothing to him at this stage; It was what I’d done that saved my life. Who would have thought, right? Then there was last night. We talked some more, about… us. What we were. Goro ended up getting frustrated at how he couldn’t find the words for it, so I ended up with him in my lap and. Well. Two plus two? it gave me a little bit of hope. For us, after all this is over. I’ve earned some kind of hope at this stage, right? That’s okay for me to take?  _

While Sojiro was sure he didn’t need to know that much about Akira’s romantic life, when he’d turned the page, he found that drawing Akira had made of the mask. This must have been Akechi’s mask, he surmised. The feeling that realization gave him in his gut was cold and scratchy, like he’d swallowed a bag of glass shards. The next date on the next available page was 11/30, and only one sentence was written on the page: 

_ I will never forgive myself for letting him die. _

Sojiro found his heart sinking. He knew, or at least can guess pretty well that this was what had been bothering Akira at the end. They’d both escaped certain death, only for Akechi to die just days later. Right after they had supposedly began establishing a relationship-- and a sexual one at that. Still, reading that single sentence, with the surrounding pages devoid of sketches or sassy words and some empty pages stained with droplets of what had to be tears, Sojiro felt his heart break for Akira. The word “never” had been underlined with so much force, the paper had torn. He should have known. He should have, right away, and been there for the boy he’d happily claim as his son. So much was happening during that time that Sojiro didn’t understand, and Akira’s stoic nature made sure he was none the wiser to the obvious emotional turmoil the raven was experiencing. 12/01 was the next entry, and it seemed as though Akira was working through his grief in a strange way. Bracing himself for the inevitable, Sojiro soldiered onwards in his reading. 

_ 12/01 _

_ I’m a fucking idiot. The shutter door button was  _ right there _ ! Why didn’t I press it? Why didn’t I see the danger and pull Goro back, or moved to put myself between them? Why didn’t I fucking  _ MOVE _ ? I just stood there like a goddamned idiot while that shadow kept talking-- I didn’t even notice that there was a grate on the floor! How am I supposed to be a leader when I can’t even protect my own fucking boyfriend? Now Goro is dead, and it’s MY FAULT. Morgana has been trying his best to comfort me, but he doesn’t know how. No one knows how-- I keep to myself too well. That’s bitten me well and truly in the ass here, cause I don’t know what to do either! That was something I really loved about Goro. He could understand my feelings without me having to say anything. We were only together for four days and it felt more like four years.  _

_ God, I-- I tried everything. I nearly killed myself using Arsene to try to break down the door. Arsene himself eventually grabbed my shoulders and told me to stop trying, but by that point I was inconsolable. I had screamed myself hoarse. Haru is so sweet-- she understood, somehow, and still offered her shoulder to me. I won’t take her up on it, but the sentiment was what mattered the most. She doesn’t hate me. Not as much as I hate myself right now, anyway. _

_ “Remember your promise, won’t you, Akira?” God, I fucking hear those words in my sleep. _

_ I didn’t know what to do with myself.  _

_ We decided to leave the palace at that point. We had done what we set out to do, all that was left was the calling card. But my friends… wanted to wait on me to feel better. I guess they were right to do so. If I had gone in there all angry, I would have killed Shido’s shadow, and all our planning would have been for nothing. Goro’s death would have been for nothing. We just came back from defeating the shadow, and I can’t say I feel better. Shido didn’t care about Goro at ALL. He was the means to an end, and he was going to have him killed after the election anyway. It  _ would _ have been over my dead body, but…  _

_ 12/16 _

_ I went out the other day. I went to the jazz club we used to go to. Neither of us really cared about jazz music, but the atmosphere was good, and they had very good smoothies. I talked with the bartender for a while about Goro, and he mentioned how Goro would go there to study. He said that in all of Goro’s visits, he seemed happiest when he was with me. He wondered if we were friends, and even that was hard to say without bursting into tears in front of a complete stranger. Morgana and I went window shopping after that. He’s been trying to get me to speak more, I guess to help me feel better. But I just nodded along to his rambles. Everyone seems to be getting ready for Christmas, and there were a bunch of shops with displays in the windows.  _

_ It was a stupid idea.  _

_ I came across a toy ray gun in a shop window-- the Proof of Justice. Goro told me about when he was a kid and wanted that exact gun. It was from some show he used to watch, and how he had asked his mother for that gun for Christmas the year she’d killed herself. It was a turning point for Goro, when he was thrown into the foster system that routinely abused him.  _

_ I bought the gun.  _

_ I had it sitting out for a while, but I eventually couldn’t take looking at it anymore and yesterday I slid it under the couch. I miss him so goddamn much.  _

_ 12/23 _

_ So I guess we’re going down into Mementos, as our last ride. All the way down to the depths, and fight whatever’s down there. If we can free the public… I dunno. Maybe we have a chance. I’m not sure. All I know is, whatever’s down there, I hope it brings me peace.  _

From there, Sojiro could tell there wasn’t much left to read, but there was also a very large gap between entries. This was the start of the time Akira had been in prison. That was a rough time, especially at home. Futaba was nearly inconsolable for the first day of Akira’s absence, then Futaba never left her room. Sojiro was terrified she’d regressed back into being a shut-in, but she promised she was just looking for ways to save Akira. That alone had to be a testament to how Akira had influenced the lives of people around him, that his daughter and her friends were so willing to do everything they could to get Akira out of jail. The next entry, and second to last, was on the next page. For this one, Akira had started writing twice, before crossing out what he’d began and trying again the next line. After a fashion, he’d finally settled on a beginning. 

_ 2/14 _

_ So all of that was all for nothing. When we got to the bottom, we found quite literally the Holy Grail. Fought said grail. Grail kicked us out of Mementos then decided it would be fun to  _ merge _ Mementos with reality. None of the people around us noticed us, or noticed that it was literally raining blood. Before we knew it, we were literally disappearing into nothing. We were so scared. Futaba… She just buried her head in her hands and sobbed, and all I wanted to do was reach for her, but my arms were disappearing. Morgana blamed himself, and all I could think of was that if this was the end, I hoped I could see Goro again.  _

_ I’m a selfish person.  _

_ So basically, the Holy Grail was just the  _ halo _ of a massive god named Yaldabaoth, who had been manipulating things from the start. He used us, he used me, and he used Goro, in some sort of game he’d been having with the real Igor. Igor said the Trickster system couldn’t be beat, Yaldabaoth begged to differ, and here we are. They both picked their champions. Igor chose me, Yaldabaoth chose Goro. Igor planned to have me trained from the start, but Yaldabaoth chucked Goro into the world of “having a Persona,” no help, no velvet room access, no explanations, and took over the Velvet Room and Igor’s identity to control how I would be trained. The bastard.  _

_ I guess I’m the only person on Earth who can unironically say they shot God in the face.  _

_ After that, Sae came up to me and told me she needed my testimony, but it would end with my arrest. It would have to, in order to save my friends from being arrested themselves. It was bullshit, and there had to have been ways around it. But without Goro, it was supposedly impossible. Whether he would have been given immunity for giving up Shido, or if he would have implicated himself and gone down with Shido for a lesser sentence, I’m not sure. But without his testimony, mine was the next best case. So I went. Thanks to all my friends and my confidants, my original arrest was proven to be garbage, so they threw my ruling out. I got out yesterday.  _

_ Morgana showed up-- and I’m glad of that. I really missed them all. I just…  _

_ I don’t know.  _

_ 3/18 _

_ I’m going home tomorrow morning.  _

_ I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave this little place I’d made for myself. This life I’d carved out. Changing schools would be a hassle, too. My record’s been expunged, but people still think I did it. In Shibuya it didn’t matter. I was free to do as I pleased. Yeah, people still talked about me in school, but once my first exam scores posted, top of the class, people started laying off a bit. There? It’s a small town, people definitely talk. I… want to stay here. All the people, the memories. They’re too important to me to just leave behind. I think I’ll go home, and talk with my dad about it. See what he says. I know he’s probably pleased my record’s clean now. The “dishonor” is gone. But… I feel at home here. Safe here. There’s absolutely no guarantee he won’t disown me anyway, for just having been involved in such a scandal. I somehow ended up with a surrogate father and sister, and friends who love me. All I was expecting was to stay in the cafe and keep my head down for 365 days. Instead, I… evolved. I came out of my shell. Took off my mask. Things happened that hurt. I will miss Goro every day for the rest of my life. I’ll never forget him. But without this experience, I would have never grown. It’s weird, to think of it that way. But here we are.  _

The entries stopped there, and Sojiro put down the journal with a heavy sigh at the wild ride he’d undertaken. He’d never even expected such emotion from the usually stoic teen, but the proof was on paper. Lighting another cigarette, Sojiro eyed the staircase leading to Akira’s old room. If Akira remained in his hometown, chances were pretty low that old attic would go back to being storage space. Sojiro had weighed the benefits of leaving it open for whenever Akira came to visit, and decided that would be best. Even so, something urged him to go back up there. Sojiro found himself ascending the stairs again, cigarette dangling from his lips. He had no idea what he was looking for up here, but look he did. Under the empty bookshelf, under the bed. Were those really  _ crates _ instead of a bed frame? What the hell was he thinking, and why didn’t Akira complain? 

Adding the personal note to shop for a bed frame for whenever Akira stayed with them, Sojiro continued his search. He checked in and around the workspace Sojiro now knew was used to make thieving tools and housed a very shady computer, and last but not least, Sojiro looked under the couch. Sure enough, under the sofa, under what had to be half an inch of dust, was a box. Snubbing his cigarette out on the table and promising himself (and Akira in spirit) that he’d clean it up, Sojiro leaned down again and pulled the box out from under the sofa. In his hands was the Proof of Justice ray gun Akira had bought in Akechi’s honor, still in its original box. An entire life, immortalized in this piece of plastic. Sojiro blew the dust off and wiped away the rest with his sleeve. Akira may not have known he’d left this behind. Thinking that he’d probably want it back, Sojiro dusted the tobacco remains off the table and collected his stub, carrying that and the gun back downstairs. 

Halfway down the stairs, the bell of the doorbell chimed as it opened. When Sojiro reached the bottom and looked up to greet his guest, the words caught firmly in his throat. 

\-------

Akira’s phone rang just as he was going to his room. He’d argued with his father all day about returning to Shibuya. It had been bothering him from the moment he realized that even after a shower this morning, the scent of coffee still clung to his hair. Like that scent, Leblanc had become part of his life, and Akira felt sore that he’d been torn from that sense of comfort. Looking down at his phone, Akira was surprised that it was Sojiro that was calling him. 

“Hello,” Akira answered on the third ring. 

“Hey. Are you settled in alright?” Sojiro sounded strange. Different and stuffy, as if he'd been crying.

“I guess. I miss you all, already.” 

“We miss you too, kid. A hell of a lot,” The sentiment was nice, but also weird, coming from the usually casual Sojiro. Was something wrong? 

  
“What’s up?” 

  
“You left something here. I think you might want to come pick it up.” Akira looked around at his things, before realizing what it was he’d forgotten. His heart dropped to his stomach as he threw open the box containing his belongings, rifling through its contents to find that the Proof of Justice was nowhere to be found.

“O-Oh. Yeah. I want to keep that,” He said softly, berating himself inwardly at how he’d forgotten such a vital thing of importance. 

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s not like you can’t get it back.” Then a quiet, “Here, eat. No, no, it’s on the house.”

“You’re calling me when there’s a customer in the store?” 

  
“Don’t you worry about it. You’re a couple hours away, why not spend the night? I know you just left and all, but… Futaba misses you and that damned cat.” Something was  _ definitely up _ with Sojiro, but Akira could not, for the life of him, figure out what was wrong. So, being the brash young man he really is, Akira came out and expressed his concerns.    
  


“Sojiro, I’m glad you asked, and packing an overnight bag as we speak, but why? What’s so important it has to be tonight? I want to stay-- I spent most of today arguing with my dad about it, at least to finish my senior year at Shujin. I haven’t even unpacked yet, cause I don’t want to just have to pack it all up again, but--” 

“Son.”    
  
What? What was happening? Sojiro  _ never _ called him son. His heart was both warmed exponentially by the gesture, and equally terrified. 

“Just come on home. There are people here who need to see you. If you want to stay, then stay. No one is making you leave. We can drive up and get your things later, and I’ll pay you back for the train fare. Just come back home tonight. If you wait any longer, you’ll miss the last train.” 

Akira paused for a beat, registering what he’d said, but still not understanding the urgency in Sojiro’s voice. He sounded like Akira absolutely  _ had _ to return that night, as if this were some kind of emergency. “I’m on my way.” Akira dropped his phone into his Shujin bag, and scooped Morgana up in the same motion. Morgana, who was previously asleep, yelped at being shoved into the bag, “Hey, what’s the big deal?” 

“Sojiro called-- We have to go back to Leblanc, apparently right now.” Akira was shoving his sweatpants and a shirt into the bag as well, taking care not to smother Morgana. “Is everything alright?”    
  
“I have no idea.”

The train ride back to Yongen-jaya was an odd one. The air felt like soda-- cracking and popping with anxiety around him. Akira felt whole days had passed between the moments the PA would crackle to life to announce the upcoming stops. He felt suspended in a bubble of loud noise, with his brain coming up with horrid idea after tragic accident. Akira could not rush faster off of that train, even if he tried. Nearly bowling over a trash bin, Akira ascended the escalator two stairs by three, rounding the corner to the nearly empty streets of the quaint alleyway that had become his home. He stopped outside the closed secondhand store to catch his breath and judged the cafe from a distance. Sojiro had flipped the sign, but he knew Akira was coming, so the raven trusted the door to be unlocked. When he opened the door, he was greeted by an entirely empty cafe, save for one Sojiro, sitting on one of the stools. He stood to greet him and, after a moment of hesitation, scooped Akira into a hug. 

“What am I ever going to do with you, kid?” 

The hug was warm and inviting-- a true father’s embrace. Akira melted and returned the hug, processing feelings he didn’t even know he still harbored. “I… I don't know. I'm known to be a handful.” 

"I think I can handle it,” Sojiro released him and snuffled, “I read your journal.” 

  
“Oh! ….  _ Oh _ .” Well, Akira’s entire life was busy flashing before his eyes.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you as well as I should have been. I should have noticed when… I’m sorry, Akira.” 

Akira smiled warmly at Sojiro, “You  _ were _ there for me. You did the best you could! You wrapped your head around what we were doing, you didn’t sell us out, kick me out, or anything like that. You made me curry every morning, and you supported me. You were  _ awesome _ , Sojiro. And I stand by what I said-- you’re a good dad.” Sojiro sniffled again, taking off his glasses so he could wipe at his eyes. “Well, go on. Your ray gun is still upstairs. Be careful with it, though.” 

Akira nodded and climbed the stairs, leaving Morgana in Sojiro’s care. Akira reached the top of the stairs, expecting to find an empty room. That was not what he found. Instead, what he found was a familiar figure sitting on his bed, the toy ray gun in gloveless hands and his journal sitting on the bed. Time ceased in its entirety, and Akira could only stare. If he looked away, even for just a moment, the figment of his imagination would disappear from its place on his bed. 

But that figment looked up at him, and those godforsaken, teary carnelian eyes warmed as he beamed a true, honest grin. Akira felt as though his own heart began to beat again at the very sight of that smile. He didn't think about the how, or the why, those were topics they could discuss later. Instead, Akira rushed forward and met the other halfway, locking into a tight embrace. Akira nearly cried, burying his hand in soft brown hair and clenching the other one in a very real, very tangible white button up shirt. 

“Welcome home.” 


End file.
